Without You
by Lavender Leo
Summary: He'd already lost Haley. He couldn't lose her too. Hotch/Garcia. Ties in with episodes "Penelope" & "House on Fire."
1. Chapter 1

**Without You**

David Rossi's fingers fumbled over his rosary beads, praying silently, and not only for the woman on the table in the next room. He was praying for the man behind him who hadn't sat down since it happened. Who paced the halls like a man lost, eyes darting to and fro and lighting on nothing. Who forgot to breathe until it was absolutely necessary. Who couldn't look at any of them because he was lost in his own mind. Unlike the others, Dave knew exactly what was going on behind Hotch's immovable glower. On the inside, the man was falling apart.

Hotch and Haley weren't going to make it. Dave had been through three failed marriages of his own; he knew the signs, and that it wouldn't be long now. It broke his heart for his friend. At least in his own divorces, he hadn't had to consider the idea of being separated from a beloved child. In any event, the stress of a dying marriage was intolerable; it had to be eating away at his very soul. But at least Aaron had found some small comfort in Penelope Garcia.

Dave had seen it all play out before. Dammit, he'd _lived_ it before. Wife at home, giving you holy hell over the job, making you miserable and lonely in the one place a man should feel safe and loved – and at work, another woman, who understands why you need to be gone so much, that you're like a soldier protecting people from horrors they can't even imagine, and who makes you feel cared for and appreciated. For Dave, those other women had been a series of affairs, most of which meant nothing and came with no strings attached. But, then, he hadn't had a Garcia.

He knew she was different the moment he met her. Unapologetically unique, she flounced her curvaceous frame around the office swathed in colors bright enough to land a 747 on a dark night, and her personality was always kicked into overdrive. It was a protective maneuver, of course – like animals in nature who evolved vibrant feathers or scales as a warning not to get too close – but beneath the sassy fashionista shield was a gentle heart that softened every one she touched, and at great risk, because her own was so fragile. Already, the girl had made some healthy chinks in his cynical armor, but that was nothing compared to what she'd done to Hotch.

He probably thought that Rossi, like the others, wouldn't notice how expressive his eyes became when she was near, or that twitch in his lips that, on better days, might precede a smile. He probably took it for granted that everyone reacted to Garcia this way; that no one would suspect his reactions were any different from their own. But Dave knew better. Oh, he'd never have an affair with her or even hint at his feelings; Aaron was way too uptight and honorable for that. But he loved her. Deeply. Protectively. Other than his son, she was probably his only joy.

And now she was dying.

When he'd first arrived at the hospital, Dave had made a beeline for Hotch. He could have asked JJ for the news, but he needed to see how his friend was doing. To see if he could even speak. "What do we know?"

"Police think it was a botched robbery," Aaron reported tightly. He wouldn't say more when JJ was close, but Rossi got him alone and cornered him.

"What are you not saying?"

Instantly, Hotch's face changed, betraying for a few brief seconds all the worry and fear Dave knew was inside. "I spoke to one of the paramedics that brought her in. It doesn't look good."

Rossi's chest clenched. _Holy Mary, Mother of God._ Already, he was beginning a prayer in his mind: _Compassionate St. Anthony, you are called the "Miracle Worker" by those who have been blessed by your special friendship. I ask you to look with favor on Garcia, who is weak and failing…_

"Morgan's phone keeps going straight to voicemail," Reid spoke up.

Emily's face twisted. "Where _is_ he?" she charged, echoing his own thoughts.

Rossi looked at Aaron for his reaction. Sure enough, it was doubly stern, and his arms were folded to contain his fury. _Morgan, beware the wrath of Hotch,_ he thought. The unit chief might never forgive his subordinate agent for not being there now, knowing how much Garcia thought of him.

_This can't happen. She has to make it. She _has_ to. The world can't afford to lose someone like Penelope. _We_ can't afford to lose her._ _And if Hotch loses her… it'll destroy him._

When Morgan finally arrived, Rossi could tell that Aaron was exercising every bit of his considerable restraint not to punch him. His face was deceptively calm as he told Derek there were no leads, but his nails were digging into his suit to keep his arms folded across his chest.

The doctor came out a minute later and reported the good news – that, miraculously, the bullet had missed her heart. Penelope would live. She would be able to leave the hospital in a few days. Dave exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. _She made it. Thank you, God_. Immediately, everyone turned to Hotch, who looked as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

"David and I will go to the scene," he announced almost instantly, resuming the leadership mantle; doubtless, it was easier to wear than that of 'worried, protective man.' "I think the rest of you should be here when she wakes up. I don't care about protocol; I don't care whether we're officially working this or not. We don't touch any new cases until we find out who did this." Only now did his iron-tight arms relax and drop to his sides.

As they were leaving, Dave glanced over at him. He knew why they were the ones going. Obviously, he'd left the agents closest to Penelope there to comfort her when she awoke, the friendliest faces to ask her the necessary questions. Rossi had known her the least amount of time, giving him the least biased perspective, and Hotch himself could only do one of two things – stand there restlessly, silently, uselessly, or put himself to work making sure that she was safe in the long-term. But Dave also wondered if he was leaving because he didn't trust himself. That, after coming this close to losing her forever, he might say something in a moment of relief that couldn't be taken back.

"You said the lead detective didn't think we'd get anything from the scene," Dave reminded him in the elevator.

"I need to see it for myself," Aaron replied, unconsciously flexing his fists at his sides. "And you have the freshest eyes. I need your head in this."

_Because your head is still upstairs with Blondie_, he thought, although he would never say that. "Absolutely. And Aaron? She's going to be fine. You can breathe now."

Hotch exhaled noisily, his shoulders visibly dropping. "Sorry."

"Don't be. We're _all_ shaken up. But we'll get the guy who did this. That's a promise." They walked out to the truck and climbed in; Hotch didn't even offer to let Rossi drive. Clearly, he was a man on a mission.

As he drove, Hotch visibly began to calm himself. Dave's heart went out to him. The immediate danger was over – Penelope was alive – but they had to find out who did this, not only for her safety, but for the unit chief's peace of mind. There would be no rest for him until then.

*LL*

A tarp was pulled over the downed body of Jason Clark Battle, covering the bullet hole in the head that had ended him. Dave reclined on a desk next to Hotch, relieved it was finally over. Morgan stood with them, while across the bullpen, Penelope was hugging her savior, JJ.

Rossi asked Derek about his faith, distracting him momentarily while Hotch stole a glance at the women and almost smiled. Morgan said his faith was day to day, and strode off. Dave grinned at Hotch, but the stoic agent's smile had already faded, and his stricken gaze was fixed on the far side of the room.

_What the hell? _Dave turned and looked over his shoulder, his stomach sinking as he did. _Oh, no._ Penelope was holding hands with that nerdy guy Kevin and smiling, while said nerd's bespectacled eyes boggled as though he'd won first prize in the lotto. It wasn't a terribly surprising development, given Kevin's wide-eyed wonder a few days earlier at the crazy things Garcia kept on her hard drive, but he knew it had cut a fresh mark into Aaron's heart.

It was an irrational feeling that only a man could understand, but he understood it well. This meant that when the inevitable came, Penelope wouldn't be free to comfort him, to hold him, to teach him to smile again. She would be chained to someone else, as he was now, out of reach. His heart was already lost; now, so was his hope.

Realizing Dave was watching him, Aaron's face masked over, hiding the pain that had been there a moment ago. "I think we've done all we can do here. I'm going to call it a night."

"Okay," Rossi nodded. "Good night." As he watched the tall, dark-haired agent exit the glass doors, deliberately keeping his chin turned away, a pang of pity overwhelmed him. He knew no one would be waiting when he got home. Maybe it was better that way. These last few months it would have been Haley there waiting, expressing some empty sentiment about how she was glad they stopped the unsub, then railing at him about how he needed to spend more time at home. She'd accuse him of being more devoted to his team than her, followed by a demand that he sleep on the couch. Dave had heard the same _shtick_ before, from all three wives, right before they packed their bags and sicced their lawyers on his ass. And, if Haley was anything like his exes, she already had a backup plan in place, taking comfort in some other man's arms while Aaron was out saving the world.

_Maybe it'll all work out in the end,_ Dave thought sympathetically. _I sure hope so. He deserves better than this._

*LL*

_A Few Days Later_

"Your flowers have lasted really well," Kevin commented, looking over the handsome row of bouquets the team had sent to her while she was in the hospital.

"Yeah. Emily told me to put Sprite in the water. Who would have thought?" Garcia grinned. "You know, in all the craziness, I haven't even read the cards yet?"

He chuckled. "Some friend _you_ are."

"Hey!" she gasped, smacking his arm. "Just for that, I'm putting you to work, smart-aleck. While I whip us up some brownies, you, sir, are going to read my cards to me."

"Slave driver," Kevin grumbled playfully. He got the smallest one first, a little basket of yellow mums. "Okay, here we go. _Ahem_. 'Missing your sunshine. Feel better soon. We love you! Emily and JJ.'"

"Aw! How sweet," Garcia beamed. "Next!"

Kevin retrieved the card from some orange flowers he didn't recognize. "This one's from Morgan. 'Heal up quick, hot stuff, you know I can't make it around here without you.' Really?"

She snickered, pouring the mix into a bowl. "That's Derek, all right. Read the next one."

Making a face, Kevin pulled cards from the last two – a bright basket of carnations, and a tall, elegant vase of stargazer lilies and lilac roses. "Okay. This one's from Rossi and Reid. 'We miss your smile – and your brain. Get better soon, Garcia!' And, I guess this one is from your boss." He adjusted his glasses and looked up sharply, seeing her back was turned while she stirred. "Um, 'Get well soon. Best regards, SSA Hotchner.'"

Garcia giggled, not turning around. "Oh, Hotch. All business and no play."

"Yeah. He terrifies me," Kevin admitted. "He's so… _serious_. And _tall_."

"He's a good guy, Kevin," she said over her shoulder. "You just have to get to know him."

"How well do _you_ know him?" her fellow tech analyst wondered.

Penelope thought about that. "Well… I'm not sure if anybody can really _know_ Hotch. He's super reserved. Doesn't talk about his feelings, _ever_. I guess you'd say he's the strong, silent type. Believes in keeping things totally professional. But he's got a good heart."

"Right. I could see that." Beneath the counter, Kevin crumpled the card against his palm and shoved it into the trash bin before she could notice. Only he would know the card had read in a southpaw scrawl, _There is no BAU without you. We need you, Penelope. Come back to us. Hotch_. "Hey, can I lick the bowl?"

***LL***

_DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it. I don't own Criminal Minds, I don't own the characters, and I don't own the lines from episode 3x09 Penelope. I just borrowed them, at the insistence of a very persistent plot bunny that wouldn't shut up until I wrote this._

_A/N: Woops! After going back over the episode timeline, I realized Haley would have already been gone. The mistake has been corrected. Sorry about that!_


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, Kevin," Garcia grumbled once he'd gone home, tromping around the coffee table with a garbage bag. Her fellow geek was fun company, but she didn't like having to clean up behind him, and leaving a mess in his wake was getting to be a bad habit of his. Candy wrappers, Chinese food cartons, pizza boxes, soda cans, dirty plates and cups – she was almost afraid to guess what his own apartment looked like. "Probably makes a frat house look like something out of Better Homes & Gardens," she muttered. "Universe, as much as I appreciate the hookup with the cosmic kind of love, I really wish he hadn't been such a slob!"

She was about to dump the smaller bag into the kitchen trash when she saw yet another thing to pick up – an Almond Joy wrapper, lying behind the waist-high can. Groaning, she bent over to get it and was surprised to find something else there as well – what looked like a crumpled-up card of some kind. She ditched the other items and smoothed out the card, finding a familiar script. _There is no BAU without you. We need you, Penelope. Come back to us. Hotch_.

Penelope blinked rapidly. "But… Kevin said…" She shook her head back and forth, as if to shake out the offending thought that he'd lied. Not able to face that just yet, she focused on the note instead.

"This is really sweet. _Too_ sweet. My boss-man is never that sentimental." She paused, thinking. "Well, I did almost _die_. Maybe that explains the lapse in Hotch's general… _Hotchiness_. I guess I could ask him about it…" Instantly, she snorted at the idea. "Yeah. Right. What would I say? 'Hey, Hotch! Been watching too many Lifetime movies lately?' Call me crazy, but I have a feeling that would not go over well." She hastily decided that it'd be better not to bring it up at all than to upset him or make things weird.

But that didn't solve the question of why Kevin had given her a false message and tried to discard the real one. He was obviously threatened by Morgan, and he'd read his note accurately enough. Did he somehow perceive Hotch as a bigger threat? How in the world could he have gotten that idea?

Garcia determinedly forced her eyes shut. _Everything happens for a reason. I have to believe that. If I don't, then what happened to me makes no sense. And Kevin, he _has_ to be the reason. I mean, what else could it be?_ She sighed._ Kevin and I are just getting this off the ground. Maybe he's just trying to edge out any potential competition – although he's a few teddy bears short of a picnic if he thinks Hotch would ever want _me_. I mean, think about it. Tall, dark, brooding, kindhearted man falls in love with chubby, goofy, over-the-top nerdy girl? Highly implausible. Lovely idea for a romance novel, yes, but in the real world – things just don't work that way. And even if they did, he's still a mess over Haley. Poor Hotch... _

"And now I've depressed myself! Good job," she scolded herself aloud.

Turning her thoughts back to the matter at hand, she eventually supposed that if all was fair in love and war, Kevin's behavior could be understood and maybe even forgiven – but just this once.

***LL***

Penelope soon recovered enough to return to work. Most of her fellow agents chuckled and ribbed her good-naturedly about her new attachment with Kevin Lynch – and Rossi perceived that every time someone did, Hotch either winced or quietly left the room. Once, Garcia had given the brooding man a reason to smile; some relief from the pressure of losing his family. Now, she was just one more reason to hurt, and at the worst possible time.

_And she's noticed_, Dave observed. _Garcia may not be a profiler, but she knows something's wrong, and that it's not just that Haley left. She can tell the dynamic has changed between them_.

His point was proven when Garcia was late for a morning meeting not long after. She rushed in spewing apologies about her alarm clock, which any profiler could see straight through. They all knew the real reason she was running behind.

"Everyone's allowed to be late. Once," the unit chief muttered coldly, tucking his chin away from her and closing his eyes. Across the table, Dave grimaced. _Ouch. Aaron's taking this even worse than I thought. _And after that snappy reprimand, Penelope's hurt and confusion were plain to see.

Over the next few weeks, she must have picked up that the difference in his behavior was personal. She stopped calling him 'Aaron,' a privilege he reserved for a handful of friends; it was usually 'sir' and very rarely now, 'Hotch.' _Why the change?_ the older agent wondered, pretty sure he already knew the answer. It was amazing what people could pretend wasn't going on, even to themselves, when they knew perfectly well it was.

Days turned into weeks; weeks turned into months. They did the job. They went home. Hotch's divorce became final, and Kevin and Garcia became a definite 'item.' Rossi couldn't help but be impressed by Lynch's announcement that he wanted to talk to him 'man to man' – although he wasn't sure if that showed moxie or just plain stupidity. It certainly wasn't subtle. And it was the action of a boy – not a man. A boy who was probably too far along in the game to ever grow up. A boy who would knowingly embarrass his girlfriend by loudly proclaiming their business in front of the entire BAU. _A boy who's not good enough for Penelope, _Dave quietly believed.

Still, Hotch did nothing. Aaron seemed to have reconciled the fact that Garcia and Lynch were a long-term thing, at least outwardly. _Maybe he gave up_, Rossi guessed, although that seemed unlikely. Penelope was a rare breed. Finding another such pure and loving spirit wouldn't be easy; he knew, he'd looked. Besides, Hotch was the antithesis of a quitter.

A year later, just when Rossi was about to write off the idea as impossible, a case came up that forced Garcia squarely out of her comfort zone, and Hotch was the one compelling her to do it. She was angry, and it wasn't surprising. But what _was_ surprising was what Dave saw after they got back. Looking uncertain, Hotch was edging hesitantly outside Garcia's computer cave. Then, a few minutes later, he was speeding from the room at a hard clip that was barely a walk, head down as if he were ducking for cover. _Uh-oh. I better look into this_.

While Aaron was heading towards the elevator, Rossi caught up with him. "Got time for a beer?"

"Um…" Hotch hesitated.

"Sure you do," Dave inserted before he could argue, patting his friend on the arm.

They went to their usual bar, had their usual beer, and talked about the usual things. Sipping slowly, Rossi decided to try his luck. "So, was there a fire in Garcia's office this afternoon?"

"Fire?" Hotch had downed a couple already, another sign that something was on his mind.

"The way you came flying out of there after we got back, I thought the sprinklers were going to go off any second," Dave joked.

The unit chief rolled his eyes. "I pushed her too hard. She wasn't happy about it."

"She's pretty resilient," Rossi pointed out. "Was she still upset when you left?"

Hotch shook his head. "I think I smoothed things over."

"So why the rush to leave?" Dave took another sip, watching him closely over the bottle.

The dark-haired man exhaled sharply. "Does it matter?"

"I think so," Rossi suggested. "If you're holding something back, Aaron, there's no need. Not with me. I would think you would know that by now."

"I do know that." Hotch pressed his lips together, weighing his options before he spoke. "Only a fool wants what he can't have," he finally confessed.

"And you think you're a fool," he surmised softly, "because you want Penelope?"

Aaron's brows shifted upward. "You've known all along, haven't you?" Taking that in, he sighed. He signaled the bartender for another beer. "I thought if I ignored it, I could make it stop, but I couldn't."

"What happened in there today?" Dave asked directly.

"I almost told her," Hotch revealed, "and I couldn't have picked a worse time to have done it. She was angry with me for forcing her to think like a profiler. She wants to see the best in people, and I ordered her to see the worst, to solve a case."

"You did what you had to do to save lives," Dave reminded him.

"But at a price. We all have ways of coping. Gideon's were his pictures and the list of people he'd saved. Yours is to hold onto the bracelet and take care of those kids in Indianapolis. Mine…"

"She helps you see the good in the world," Rossi realized aloud. "You can't see it, but she can. And if she loses her ability to see the good… you're afraid you'll lose your faith in humanity."

Hotch nodded. "She's happy now, with someone who won't betray that innocence. That's why I had to walk away."

"You think you're saving her heart by denying yours," Dave summed up. "It's a noble idea, but there's a problem. You're not giving Penelope the right to choose that for herself."

"She's with someone else, Dave."

Rossi shook his head. "She's not wearing a ring. They're not engaged. They're not married. He's had a year. If he hasn't asked her yet, that's his problem. And if he has and she's said no, then she's holding out for a better offer. Either way, you still have a chance, but you have to _say_ something!"

"What am I supposed to say?" Hotch replied, sounding slightly defensive.

"When you see her, you'll know," Dave advised, being purposefully gentle and calm. "Look, I know you think you're protecting her. You think because your marriage to Haley failed, you'll end up hurting her too. But you don't know that. The only real failure is not to _try_. Trust me, you'll never forgive yourself if you don't."

Aaron silently considered that. "I can't tell her at the office."

_He's going to do it!_ Rossi's face exploded with a brilliant smile. "You don't have to. Do it now. Don't wait." Not giving Hotch a chance to talk himself out of it, he took his cell phone from the counter and pulled up her number. "Dinner. Italian. Bella Vigna. It's the next best thing to having _me_ cook for you." He could barely contain his joy when Aaron put the phone to his ear.

***LL***

Penelope pulled a box of penne from the cabinet and got out a kettle to boil the noodles. Kevin had gone to a movie party with some of his buddies, so she'd be doing dinner on her own tonight. He'd invited her, but she was quick to remind him that she didn't do slasher films, whether or not there was free pizza. _Just another sign of the times_, she thought wanly.

When they'd first started dating, having a techie nerd to talk to was a novelty she couldn't get enough of. It seemed they had everything in common. But lately, she had to admit, she was having her doubts. Things weren't exactly happening in the bedroom anymore, unless you counted actual _sleep_. And Kevin was finding more and more reasons to be gone with his friends – game nights, movie nights, trivia at the bar – any excuse seemed like a good one to get away. Their interests just seemed vastly different now that her rose-colored glasses of new love had faded – he liked vulgar humor, comic books, and RPG's; she loved the theatre, dancing, and occasionally eating at a restaurant that didn't serve hamburgers as a main staple. They were growing apart, and she knew it.

Only one thing had held her back from telling him it was over – the stubborn voice in the back of her mind that told her this was fate – and even that argument was starting to fall through. For one thing, it wasn't as though Kevin lived in Seattle, or Prague; he was only two floors down from her at work. That being the case, fate could have picked less violent circumstances to get them together – like meeting in the elevator, or the lobby, or the parking garage. And though it pained her to admit it, even to herself, her heart just wasn't in it anymore. "I'll tell him tonight," she thought aloud, "when he gets back. I'll say, 'Kevin, it's been great – mostly – but I think we should see other people.' Right. I can do that."

She'd just put the water on when her phone rang. Still vaguely muddled by her thoughts of an imminent break-up, she hadn't thought to check the caller ID, and almost didn't recognize the voice on the other end.

"Garcia?"

"Yes?"

The man calling paused for a second, as though something was wrong. "Garcia, it's Hotch."

"Oh," she murmured, slightly taken aback. "Hi."

Another pause. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" she asked distractedly.

"You didn't answer the phone the way you usually do," Hotch pointed out.

"Right. I guess my ability to come up with snappy greetings has the night off," she feebly teased. "Assuming my other faculties are still online, what can I help you with, sir?"

"Nothing work-related," he replied. "At least, not tonight. Have you had dinner?"

Penelope raised an eyebrow. "Not yet, no. I had just gotten the stuff out to make some pasta."

"So, you and Kevin are having spaghetti tonight?" The question sounded almost doleful.

"Just me," Garcia reported. "Kevin's out with the guys watching the best – or worst, as the case may be – of crazy psycho killer movies. How he gets any entertainment out of that is beyond me." She couldn't keep the contempt out of her voice.

"The real thing is bad enough," Hotch said grimly.

"Thank you! I'm glad _you_ get it." She blew out an angry exhale, then caught herself. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get sidetracked."

"It's okay," he murmured. "If you don't want to do dinner alone, I could meet you somewhere."

"You'd do that?"

"Of course."

Feeling lighter inside, she turned off the burner. Dinner with Hotch was infinitely better than dinner alone, waiting for Kevin to come so she could break the bad news. "That actually sounds wonderful. Count me in."

"Good. How does eight o'clock sound?"

"Perfect. Where are we going?"

"Since you were going to have pasta, why don't we do Italian? Rossi recommended a place to me, Bella Vigna. Have you been there?"

"No, but if Rossi recommends it, it must be fantastically awesome. Sir, you are a life-saver!"

"Thanks," he chuckled, "but there's one rule – since we're not at work, you're not allowed to call me 'sir.' Deal?"

"You strike a hard bargain," Penelope jabbed, "but, deal."

***LL***

_A/N: In case you haven't already noticed, the canon ship has sailed (after episode 4x19) and I've gone AU. Next chapter will conclude the story. If you like what you're reading, review! It just takes a minute and writers need to feel appreciated. Yes, I am shamelessly begging for some love here. Also, if anybody wants it, I've made a desktop wallpaper for the first chapter of the story, just let me know. In addition to being a writing nerd, I'm also a Photoshop fiend._

_And I just noticed, this is my second Matchmaker Rossi fic. I'm starting to see a pattern here... haha_


	3. Chapter 3

Given Rossi's recommendation, both Hotch and Garcia were surprised to find that Bella Vigna was not some ritzy five-star restaurant with waiters at every table. Rather, it was a bistro, cozy and pleasant, with alternating red, white and green tablecloths, and a lattice below the ceiling decorated with greenery and white Christmas lights. Nearly every table was taken; luckily, there was a booth open near the back.

"_Bongiorno_," an Italian teenager in a green vest said, giving them menus. "Welcome to Bella Vigna." He rattled off the night's specials and promised to come back with their drinks and some bread.

Aaron was relieved by the laid-back setting with its low hum of background chatter; he wasn't sure he could have gone through with this in one of those stilted upscale places where you could hear a pindrop. That would have been far too nerve-wracking. Rossi definitely knew what he was doing.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about? We didn't get around to that on the phone," Garcia prompted, wasting no time.

Luckily, he'd anticipated the question. "After I left, I thought about our conversation, and I realized that saying thank you was inadequate. I'm hoping this will put me back in good stead."

Penelope giggled. "So, you're bribing me with yummy Italian food! Nicely done. All is forgiven."

"Good." _She forgives so easily_, he thought warmly, involuntarily reminded of the steep price of asking too much from Haley. Neither flowers, nor dinner, nor jewelry, nor anything else he'd tried could assuage his ex-wife's anger. No gesture, no plea for forgiveness, was ever enough.

"What is it?" Garcia wondered, picking up on his melancholy vibe.

"Nothing," he replied evenly, pretending to be absorbed in reading the menu.

"_Unh-unh_. There is no 'nothing.' Not with this girl," she quipped. One fuschia fingernail tipped down his menu so she had an unobstructed view of his face. "And no hiding, either."

Aaron pursed his lips, trying not to be disturbed by the fact that she saw through him when others couldn't. _The FBI teaches profilers how to read outer expressions and behavior_, his mind reasoned, _but reading someone's heart is something no one can teach_. Call it women's intuition, empathy, a sixth sense – whatever it was, Garcia had it in spades. Ironic, that he had fallen for the one woman who wasn't fooled by his inscrutable veneer.

"I was just thinking about how quick you were to forgive me," he said, opting for the truth. "Others, in the past, haven't been so forbearing."

Her doe-eyes turned wistful. "Haley," she murmured, hitting the nail on the head.

He closed his eyes momentarily and nodded. "Haley."

Penelope humphed to herself and shook her head, visibly holding something back.

"What?" he asked.

"It's better if I don't say anything. You wouldn't like it," she warned him.

"Garcia, I'd rather you tell me than have to guess at what you're thinking," Hotch informed her. "Whatever it is, you can say it."

She would anyway; Penelope Garcia could do many things well, but repressing her opinions was not one of them. A few seconds later, she inevitably exploded. "I don't like Haley," she blurted. "Now, I realize I'm running the risk of making you super-mad at me, but you _did_ ask, and – I just don't _like_ her. I was there in the office when she called and yelled at JJ, just because she couldn't reach you. She had no right to be mean to my Jayje like that! It wasn't her fault you were in the field and couldn't pick up! And that's another thing. Why, if it wasn't an emergency, was she calling JJ and harassing her in the first place? But that's not even the big stuff, because what I don't like most of all is how she hurt _you_. Sir, you are – oh God, sorry, I forgot and called you Sir – but you are a _hero_. You go out there every day and risk your life to help people, and for her not to understand that and see in you all the wonderful things that I know are there that would have been worth staying for – I just don't like her," she concluded, exhaling loudly. "Sorry," she tacked on, although he was pretty sure she wasn't.

For a long time, Hotch was silent, processing what she'd said and the implications of it. Meanwhile, Garcia was panicking, afraid she'd really put her high-heeled foot in her mouth this time.

_Way to go, Garcia! Boss-man takes you out to dinner to say sorry, and you no sooner get sat down than you're hurling verbal attacks at his ex-wife, whom he's clearly still strung out over. Not exactly considerate! _she berated herself. _Why couldn't I just keep my big mouth shut? He's obviously trying hard not to say anything, which probably means I pissed him off royally with that little tirade and he's just thinking of a diplomatic way to say 'up yours.' Might as well start looking for another job… wonder if any of the other units are hiring._

"You hate me, don't you?" she surmised, no longer able to take the tension between them. "I'm sorry. Truly, I did not mean to go off like that. I shouldn't have done it. It's none of my business, and… I don't know what I was thinking. I _wasn't_ thinking," she corrected herself aloud.

"Did you mean it?"

There was no inflection to his voice, his poker-face hadn't shown a crack, and as upset as she was, Penelope couldn't get her own feelings straight, let alone try to guess at his. Her face fell as she surrendered to whatever judgment he would dole out. "Every word," she confirmed quietly, hanging her head.

Across the table, Aaron was nearly coming apart at the seams, but not for the reason she thought. With no encouragement, the woman had just praised him through the roof, calling him wonderful, a hero. Coming from Haley's mouth, the word 'hero' had always sounded like an accusation. As to why he hadn't spoken – what words could follow such a shining, impassioned defense of him, in spite of what he'd seen as evidence to the contrary? If it was possible, he loved her now more than ever.

"Then I'm in the same predicament I was in when we got here," Hotch related in a low voice. "Saying thank you just isn't enough."

Penelope's head jerked upright. "You mean, you're not mad at me?"

"Why would I be angry?" He shook his head gently, giving her a look that let her know it was okay. "If I was still a prosecutor and heard such a glowing testimony in someone's favor, I might have moved to dismiss all charges on the spot." She looked mystified, so he spoke plainer. "You couldn't pay me a higher compliment than you just did. I'm touched."

"I just said what I thought," she shrugged demurely, a hint of a blush creeping up her porcelain cheeks. His subsequent smile was enough to bring it all the way out.

"I'm glad you did." More soberly, he continued, "Haley _did_ hurt me. For a long time, I've put all the blame on myself, because I was convinced that was where it belonged. And, after I demanded too much of you with this last case, I fully expected you to be resentful and hold a grudge, because that's what Haley would have done. But you surprised me. You forgave me earlier today, and you defended me just now. And, other than Jack, you're the only person I know who thinks of me as a hero. He's five years old and I'm his father; his bias, I can understand. Yours… I don't."

Before things could get off-the-charts awkward, the waiter came back with the promised bread and two glasses of wine. Somehow, the two managed to place their orders, although both their hearts and heads were racing. Bread and wine sat untouched as they stared at each other, minutes after the waiter had gone.

At length, Penelope spoke. "I may not be in the field, but I know what you see out there, and how much danger you're in every time you go. I've been on the wrong side of an unsub's gun, and I've got the scar to prove it," she began, trying unsuccessfully to keep her voice from trembling. "I would be way too scared to ever go after one of those people. But you keep doing it, every day. You could work a million safer places and still get a great paycheck, but you choose to be here, with us, because you know at the end of the day, you might save someone's life. I think that's pretty heroic."

"Thank you. But heroic or not, it still cost me my family," he self-deprecated, unable to hide his shame.

"You still have a family," Garcia passionately denied. "The BAU _is_ your family. And just for the record, family doesn't walk away when you need them. When something goes wrong, they help you fix it. And when you're hurting, they hold you and tell you everything's going to be all right. Because that's what a family _does_. They take care of each other. And no matter how bad things get, you never have to feel alone, because you're not. There are people out there who love you and will always, always be there."

Despite SSA Hotchner's unchallenged reputation of remaining calm under pressure, this was the second time today he'd wanted to bolt before this woman had him bursting into tears. She seemed to have an uncanny knack for finding his deepest wounds and bringing them to the surface so she could apply her healing balm. Gratitude overwhelmed him. Had he known her true feelings and intentions, he would have let the tears flow, stepped around the booth and forced his tongue down her throat. But the question of Garcia's current relationship still hung over his head, effectively killing any such desirable notions. Honor demanded he know the answer before he crossed that line.

"I seem to be racking up a massive debt of thank-you dinners tonight," Hotch remarked in an attempt to lighten the mood. He succeeded; Penelope smiled. "But I do appreciate the thought. It _is_ comforting to know that there are people I can depend on." Seeing an opportunity to find out what he needed to know, he struck while the iron was hot. "You know, someday, maybe not too far in the future, you'll have a family of your own. Assuming you and Kevin continue your relationship, there might come a day when you would have to choose between _your_ family and the BAU."

"That's assuming a lot," Penelope mumbled, taking a hurried drink of her wine.

"I wouldn't think so. You've been seeing each other over a year. That implies a serious commitment," Hotch pointed out.

"Not necessarily." Uncomfortable beneath her superior's stern stare, she reached for the bread and started cutting slices. It gave her hands something to do other than shake, and her eyes somewhere to look that wouldn't make her feel like passing out from the intensity. "Let's just say, I wouldn't go out and look for a 'congratulations' card just yet."

He allowed himself a look of genuine concern. "Has something happened?"

Sighing sharply, Penelope scraped some butter across a slice, failing any effort to be nonchalant. "Funny you should ask. Right before you called, I was trying to figure out the best way to break up with him."

Aaron's eyes widened considerably. Unbeknownst to Garcia, bells, whistles and fireworks were going off in his head. His heart, however, was more solemn, knowing from experience just how much this had to hurt. "That's why you sounded so strange on the phone. I'm sorry. I didn't know." He paused thoughtfully. "Is there anything I can do?"

"There is," she murmured, forcing a smile for his sake, "and you're doing it right now. Just being here, talking, listening. Actually _interacting _with another human being in a way that doesn't involve a keyboard. Being alone all the time gets really old after a while."

Hotch arched his brows. "I thought you said having a family meant you'd never have to feel alone."

"I _did_ say that," Garcia admitted, nodding sheepishly. "And I was right. Here we are."

"Here we are," he echoed fondly. On a whim, he raised his glass. "To family."

"To family," she toasted with him, clinking glasses and sipping. It didn't escape her notice that he was giving her an odd look over the rim of his glass, but Penelope didn't know what to make of it. If she hadn't known better, she would have labeled it 'relieved' or even – dare she suggest it? – 'happy.'

She was right, of course; he did feel those things, along with countless others, excitement and anticipation heading up the list. Could the timing have _been_ more serendipitous? What were the odds of it being coincidental that the very night Rossi pushed him to call her was the exact same night Penelope meant to end things with Kevin? It amusingly crossed his mind that Reid could probably give him statistics on such a chance, and say that it was 'highly unlikely, but not enough to rule out.' In any case, he'd gotten what he came for. In just a few minutes, he'd learned two very important pieces of information: that Kevin was no longer an impediment, and that Garcia truly loved him; if not the way he loved her, then at least as the dearest of friends. And that, he could build on.

But there was still one lingering doubt in his mind. _Best to get it out of the way now_, he thought. "Have you told Morgan?"

Penelope shook her head, blonde hair swinging. "I haven't even told JJ. You're the first to know."

"You should tell him tonight," Aaron advised with falsified mirth. "Now's his chance to swoop in and carry you off into the sunset."

"That sounds like something a seagull would do to a fish," she chuckled at his analogy. "And as lovely a fairytale ending as that would be, we both know it's never gonna happen."

"Why not?" he asked, sincerely curious.

"Don't get me wrong. I love my beautiful chocolate Adonis, and I know he loves me – but it's the same way he loves his sisters and his mom. Sure, he and I talk a good game and pump each other up with some seriously questionable flirting, but Derek would never think of me that way, not _really_."

"Are you certain of that?" Because _he_ wasn't.

"Um, have you seen the women he dates?" she scoffed. "Look at them, and then look at me. It's like in grade school, when they told you to 'circle the one that does not belong.' I'm the one who gets the circle."

Hotch cringed. Had Kevin left her self-esteem that low, or had it always been that way and he'd simply not noticed, taking her sunny smiles and bright colors at face value to ease his own suffering? He had a sinking suspicion it was the latter, and if so, he'd beat himself up for it thoroughly later.

"You _do_ stand out," Aaron declared, "but it's not because you don't compare to others. It's because you outshine them."

Penelope's mouth fell open; she was glad she hadn't been chewing, or she might have choked. "I think you just paid all your thank-you debts in full," she said faintly. To her knowledge, neither Kevin nor Morgan had ever given her such a jaw-dropping compliment. She was no longer on earth, but shooting up through the stratosphere.

"That's too bad. I was looking forward to those other dinners," he frowned.

"So was I," she revealed, her voice little more than a peep. "Do you think we can maybe still have them?"

"I'd like that," Hotch affirmed, "if you don't mind spending time with your boring, demanding old boss."

"You are neither boring nor old, my _heroic_ Hotchner," Garcia assured him, smiling; they both knew she'd purposefully left out 'demanding.' "And I promise, next time we do this, I won't be Debbie Downer."

"You're fine," he comforted. "Family takes care of each other, remember? You take prodigious care of your family. It's okay to let them take care of _you_ once in a while."

Deeply touched, Penelope put a hand to her heart and fought back tears. "I think I need to amend my previous statement," she quaked, overcome with feeling, "to say that not only do I dislike Haley, I think she's a raving idiot. I mean, a girl would have to have a screw loose to…" She stopped herself short, realizing exactly what she was implying. "To let go of someone as good as you," she finished gravely, hoping she hadn't screwed up by blurting out her feelings, _again_.

Their food arrived, and when the waiter was gone, neither of them touched their plates.

"Penelope…" Hotch struggled for the right words. 'Marry me' was rushing it to the extreme, 'Sleep with me' was far too presumptuous, and 'I love you' could be misconstrued as the love of a friend, and probably would be, as Morgan seemed to use that statement often.

She took his silence as evidence that she'd just committed a colossal _faux pas_. Why had she done it, anyway? Why had she been so quick to denounce Haley in front of him, multiple times? What exactly was she trying to _prove_?

And then it hit her. Like the Rock of Gibraltar falling on Daffy Duck, it hit her. "Kevin was right," she whispered.

"I'm sorry?" _Did I hear that right? Did she just mention Kevin? Why are we back to him? _Aaron tilted his chin up and to the side, an affectation he didn't realize he used when he was feeling unsure.

"Kevin was right," she repeated, looking into Hotch's face with horror. "Your card; he threw it away, because he thought – oh my God – but you didn't mean – and I didn't _know_ –"

"Slow down. _What_ card?" Aaron interrupted, almost sounding harsh in his worry. "This time, in sentences."

"The card that came with the flowers you sent me in the hospital," Garcia replied, doing her best to spout complete phrases. "Kevin tried to get rid of it so I couldn't read it. I found it behind the garbage can. Morgan's card was the flirty one, but he didn't throw his away."

Hotch blinked several times. He remembered the card, all right, and how extremely vulnerable he'd felt when he penned the message, frightened by the fact that he almost lost her forever. He was starting to piece together her train of thought, but just to be on the safe side, he let her steer it to its intended destination.

"He was more scared of you than he was of Morgan," she went on out of pure shock, unable to stop. "He even asked me how well I knew you. Back then, I didn't know why, but he must have seen something I didn't. Not until now."

Aaron's brows jumped to his hairline. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Oh, Hotch… I am _so_ sorry!" Penelope covered her mouth in shame as tears welled up beneath her glasses. "I never meant for this to happen! I didn't even know it had until a few seconds ago, and… oh, this has got to be _so_ unbelievably awkward and yucky for you right now! But I promise, if you let me stay, my performance on the team will not go down even one iota; I will pull it together and be 100 percent professional and rational, and you will never have to hear about this again – "

"Stop."

And she did, right in midstream. Hotch's commands always had that effect, instantly demanding her compliance.

He didn't say another word, but flagged down the waiter. "Would you box these for us, please?" he asked, indicating their fully-loaded plates. "Thanks. And bring me the bill."

Penelope's stomach twisted itself in knots. He couldn't even bear to finish a meal with her. This was it, then. The end. There could be no going back to the way things were, to a respectful working relationship and a loving, trusting friendship. She'd ruined it, by realizing at the worst possible moment that she wanted something far more precious and unattainable. Gideon's reproof from years earlier echoed in her ears now, _"How could you be so stupid?"_ She felt then almost as guilty and deficient as she did now, only this was much worse. Her breathing was shallow and she was shaking so hard, she was surprised the whole booth wasn't jittering along with her.

Hotch got up from the booth with a face that would have frozen steel, although it was clear that just under the surface, his emotions were roiling. He stalked towards her, never breaking eye contact, and slid into the seat beside her. His hands clutched the sides of her face, giving her no quarter, no room for escape.

And then he kissed her.

If kissing Kevin was like a bike ride through the park; light, fun, and genial, then kissing Hotch was like bungee jumping off a high bridge. It was gripping, terrifying, exhilirating, and she really did feel like she was falling. His mouth crushed into hers and commanded her attention, and once he had it, his tongue took the lead, ruthlessly invading her mouth and taking charge of every inch of its territory. After a minute he pulled away, leaving them both gasping for breath, and several onlookers at the nearby tables openly gawking.

The waiter came back with the boxes and the ticket, indicating that they could pay up front. Aaron got out of the booth and waited for her to collect her purse – and her jaw, as she seemed to have dropped it. On jelly-legs, she followed him to the front, her head reeling as though she'd been suckerpunched. Once he'd paid, Hotch took her hand and walked her to where Esther was parked.

"Before anything else happens, you need to explain things to Kevin," he said grittily, brushing a hand over her hair.

"I know." She nodded, slowly regaining her ability to think. "Then what?"

"Then, call me." His hand traced down her face. "But don't make me wait too long."

"Or what? You'll come busting down doors, Supervisory Studly Agent?" Garcia teased.

"Actually, I was going to have Morgan do it," he deadpanned, before he allowed a smirk to twist his lips. Bending his neck, he brushed a lighter kiss across her lips, a gentle reminder of whose they were now. "Get going."

"All right, Bossy-man," she grinned, changing his nickname to jab him. "I'll call you in the next three hours."

His raised eyebrow told her this was unacceptable. "Make it two."

***LL***

_One Week Later_

Garcia sighed contentedly. Lying side by side with Aaron, their hands clasped beneath the sheets, their bodies sated, she knew she could never be happier than she was at that moment. Releasing his hand, she rolled onto her side to face him and laid an arm across his stomach, enjoying the warmth of his skin as it rose and fell with his breath.

"What are you thinking about?" Hotch mumbled tiredly, eyes closed.

"How do you know I'm thinking about anything?" she wondered.

His lips curled into a smirk. "Because you're quiet."

Scoffing in protest, she lifted her arm to smack his shoulder, earning a laugh from her lover. "You're lucky I love making you laugh," she teased. "And that you're so darn sexy."

"I am, huh?" In a move too swift for her to predict or stop, he rolled over and took her with him, pinning her down. He chuckled at her shocked face.

"Foul! Flag on the play! No fair using FBI maneuvers on a non-field agent!" Garcia chastised, but she couldn't hide her own grin as he leaned down to kiss her. "_Mmm_. Again? Already?"

"Not yet," he admitted, "but we might as well have fun while we wait." And for the next fifteen minutes, he showed her that yes, indeed, reputedly stodgy SSA Hotchner really did how to have fun - before getting down to business.

"Tell me what you were thinking earlier," he said after their second round, spooned behind her with a protective arm around her waist.

"I was just wondering why it happened to me," she confessed quietly. "Getting shot, I mean. In the grand scheme of things, I don't think it makes any sense."

"Unsubs don't follow any rules of logic that would make sense to most people," Aaron reminded her.

"That's not what I meant. I've always believed that everything happens for a reason. But I can't find any good reason for what happened to me. I used to think it was fate's way of bringing me and Kevin together, but that wasn't it. Obviously," she added with a smile, bringing his hand up to her lips for a kiss.

Hotch kept holding her hand, but was quiet for a long time. "That was the day I knew," he finally murmured.

"Knew what, honey?" she asked, glad she could call him 'honey' now without being reproved.

"That I loved you," Aaron confided. "I tried to imagine the BAU without you, and I couldn't. Not just because the team needed you, but… because I did."

Overwhelmed with feeling, Penelope turned to face him and held him deliberately close. Hotch's arms clasped her as though he was still afraid she might vanish if he didn't hold her tightly. "Then it was worth it," she whispered lovingly. "Because I can't imagine a life without _you_."

**The End**


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